Convicted
Page 59
Losing her heeled shoes, Claire ran down the path, toward the shore. The green vegetation, colorful flowers, and lush trees hid her view of the beach. She was just about to call out—to shout to Phil—when she emerged from the foliage. As her bare feet hit the beach, they stopped and slowly sank into the soft sand.
Stalling under an arch of flowers and vines, Claire experienced one of those moments where time stood still—the sun and moon forgot their roles—the earth no longer turned—and the tides no longer ebbed or flowed. She stood speechless as a second passenger emerged from the plane and stepped toward the path. When he looked up, he stopped mid-step. Claire bravely met his gaze, taking in the darkest, most intense eyes she’d ever known.
Claire knew she’d seen every emotion in those eyes—from anger to adoration. Currently, she saw a mixture of apprehension and desire. With each second, desire overpowered apprehension—desire overpowered—everything—everything else—everywhere.
Perhaps there were stars falling, volcanoes erupting, or epic winds blowing. Truthfully, at that moment, the entire world could’ve been lost and neither one would have known. Later, when she reflected, Claire believed Phil had been speaking. He was giving reason or explanations—at the time, all Claire heard was the beating of her heart—maybe, just maybe, it was their baby’s heart. No matter, the whoosh—whoosh was what filled her ears and her consciousness. Unable to move, Claire stood, waiting for Tony to make his way to her.
Tears filled her eyes and spontaneously escaped her lids as she watched each elegant step. How could a world as perfect as the paradise, where she’d been living, have been lacking? In the last moments, seeing Tony gracefully move toward her, Claire knew her sphere was now whole.
When he was within reach, Claire remembered all she wanted to say—all the questions she’d compiled in her thoughts. Though the questions came to mind, with increased vigor, no words materialized on her lips. Standing tall and proud, Claire remained silent. She couldn’t calm the mayhem long enough to decipher her words. The best plan was silence until...
Without warning, one of Tony’s arms surrounded her growing waist and the other captured her neck. The sound escaping her lips couldn’t be classified as words. On the contrary, it was more involuntary as her body submitted to his. Every touch, every move, and every angle was determined by him. Claire’s body no longer waited for internal instruction. It was programmed to respond to the contact of the man towering above her, inhaling her aroma, and caressing her body.
His hands held her tightly within his grasp. She didn’t fight. Why would anyone fight their rightful place? Instead, the sounds from her mouth—the moans from her chest—were a plea, a request for more. Truthfully, Claire wasn’t even aware she was making the noises, yet she heard them. Within seconds, his fingers were intertwined in her hair. It wasn’t much, but Claire suddenly felt the need to apologize. “I’m so sorry.”
The strong, determined mission of his lips quieted further commentary, until he came up for air and said, “No, I’m sorry.”
Could six words mend an insurmountable gorge? At first, Claire wasn’t sure—until they did. As the words left their lips—the gap disappeared. They were together, and nothing could separate them. Claire was in Tony’s arms, tasting his kiss, and inhaling his amazing scent. The world beyond their bubble was suddenly insignificant. She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, on the beach, holding one another.
His eyes held the key to her heart and soul. Peering into Tony’s dark gaze of desire, her world lightened into the place she wanted to be. Claire knew she could remain there for a lifetime. Then, slowly, the world around them infiltrated her senses—soft sand materialized beneath her toes—a gentle, salt scented breeze moved strands of her hair—the orange glow of the setting sun created an orange hue—and sound of propellers told them that the plane was leaving.
Unable to contain her sudden panic, Claire held tight to Tony’s hand and looked beyond their bubble. Heading back toward the plane was the man who’d made their world right. Claire gasped and looked up to Tony with her head shaking. “We can’t let him leave.” Then louder, she yelled toward the plane, “Phil!”
He looked their direction.
“Stay,” Tony commanded.
Phil’s progress stalled. He turned back as they walked toward him.
When they were all together, Tony held out his hand. While the two men shook, Tony said, “Thank you. We can never thank you enough.”
Stalling under an arch of flowers and vines, Claire experienced one of those moments where time stood still—the sun and moon forgot their roles—the earth no longer turned—and the tides no longer ebbed or flowed. She stood speechless as a second passenger emerged from the plane and stepped toward the path. When he looked up, he stopped mid-step. Claire bravely met his gaze, taking in the darkest, most intense eyes she’d ever known.
Claire knew she’d seen every emotion in those eyes—from anger to adoration. Currently, she saw a mixture of apprehension and desire. With each second, desire overpowered apprehension—desire overpowered—everything—everything else—everywhere.
Perhaps there were stars falling, volcanoes erupting, or epic winds blowing. Truthfully, at that moment, the entire world could’ve been lost and neither one would have known. Later, when she reflected, Claire believed Phil had been speaking. He was giving reason or explanations—at the time, all Claire heard was the beating of her heart—maybe, just maybe, it was their baby’s heart. No matter, the whoosh—whoosh was what filled her ears and her consciousness. Unable to move, Claire stood, waiting for Tony to make his way to her.
Tears filled her eyes and spontaneously escaped her lids as she watched each elegant step. How could a world as perfect as the paradise, where she’d been living, have been lacking? In the last moments, seeing Tony gracefully move toward her, Claire knew her sphere was now whole.
When he was within reach, Claire remembered all she wanted to say—all the questions she’d compiled in her thoughts. Though the questions came to mind, with increased vigor, no words materialized on her lips. Standing tall and proud, Claire remained silent. She couldn’t calm the mayhem long enough to decipher her words. The best plan was silence until...
Without warning, one of Tony’s arms surrounded her growing waist and the other captured her neck. The sound escaping her lips couldn’t be classified as words. On the contrary, it was more involuntary as her body submitted to his. Every touch, every move, and every angle was determined by him. Claire’s body no longer waited for internal instruction. It was programmed to respond to the contact of the man towering above her, inhaling her aroma, and caressing her body.
His hands held her tightly within his grasp. She didn’t fight. Why would anyone fight their rightful place? Instead, the sounds from her mouth—the moans from her chest—were a plea, a request for more. Truthfully, Claire wasn’t even aware she was making the noises, yet she heard them. Within seconds, his fingers were intertwined in her hair. It wasn’t much, but Claire suddenly felt the need to apologize. “I’m so sorry.”
The strong, determined mission of his lips quieted further commentary, until he came up for air and said, “No, I’m sorry.”
Could six words mend an insurmountable gorge? At first, Claire wasn’t sure—until they did. As the words left their lips—the gap disappeared. They were together, and nothing could separate them. Claire was in Tony’s arms, tasting his kiss, and inhaling his amazing scent. The world beyond their bubble was suddenly insignificant. She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, on the beach, holding one another.
His eyes held the key to her heart and soul. Peering into Tony’s dark gaze of desire, her world lightened into the place she wanted to be. Claire knew she could remain there for a lifetime. Then, slowly, the world around them infiltrated her senses—soft sand materialized beneath her toes—a gentle, salt scented breeze moved strands of her hair—the orange glow of the setting sun created an orange hue—and sound of propellers told them that the plane was leaving.
Unable to contain her sudden panic, Claire held tight to Tony’s hand and looked beyond their bubble. Heading back toward the plane was the man who’d made their world right. Claire gasped and looked up to Tony with her head shaking. “We can’t let him leave.” Then louder, she yelled toward the plane, “Phil!”
He looked their direction.
“Stay,” Tony commanded.
Phil’s progress stalled. He turned back as they walked toward him.
When they were all together, Tony held out his hand. While the two men shook, Tony said, “Thank you. We can never thank you enough.”
